“And I will love you until my heart turns to stone and breaks and for an eternity beyond that,” I whispered back, my hands caressing the sides of his face as happy tears rolled down my cheeks. “And nothing will ever, ever change that.”
I snapped back to myself with a start, fresh tears retracing the steps of the ones the puppy had licked away. Samael's forehead was resting against mine, and I found myself fighting an urge to pull him closer. Instead, I used my attraction to him as fuel for the shove I gave against his chest. He stumbled back, more from surprise than my own strength.
He frowned back at me, pale eyes darkening around the edges with a righteous anger. I covered my head with my arms and slunk to the floor. I wasn't ready for these memories yet. You said you'd wait until I was ready, I tried to tell the part of me that had hidden these things for so long. You said you'd wait!
I got no response, not that I was surprised. This was my own doing. I had no one to blame, no one to yell at, except for myself.
“Why?” I moaned, rocking back and forth and wondering for the umpteenth time what in the hell had happened in that car. And why the air around me was stiff and uncomfortable, full of unspoken arguments and fear. What was going on?
“You've been sleeping for two weeks.” Samael spoke casually as if he didn't care that I'd just rejected him, but his voice was full of raw need and sex. He was teasing me on purpose. I continued to rock, ignoring the yipping puppy and the silent men at the end of the hall.
Let him tease me, I thought. I'm not Liadain anymore, I'm Georgette and he is not my soul mate. I don't even believe in soul mates. Or love. Both of those things are just cruel myths meant to tease people into believing there's hope when there isn't.
Two weeks was a long time to sleep though and no one was offering up an explanation for why. I waited, content to sit there until they did. I had no place to go or rather no place that I could go. Not looking like this.
“In order to save your family and take control of the disastrous situation at the funeral home,” Samael continued, pretending like he didn't hear my thoughts even though I knew he did. “I had to release the magic inside of both you and me, Georgette. I had no choice.” I glanced up at him, slowing my rock to a gentle sway. “But now Gadrael will be able to track the both of us with little effort. We must travel back to the Other Place and rally the other Houses around us until our own court is strong enough to stand up to him.”
“No,” I said suddenly before I had even realized what I was doing. “I told you. I don't want to go there. I just want to get rid of the fucking CRL and live a life here, as a human, as Georgette.”
“Do you see?” Corey finally said, speaking for the first time since he'd entered the hallway. “I told you, she said it before and she's saying it again. She doesn't want anything to do with this. Neither of us does.” I met his angry eyes and tried to look grateful that he was standing up for me. But I couldn't. I just didn't care. I knew in my heart that my protests were futile ones. That I was ultimately just delaying an inevitable future, not changing it.
“Our business lies with the Coalition. They don't believe undead beings have a right to exist and we're,” Corey paused, sighed, continued. “We're in the business of death. If you want to help us get rid of them, so be it. But we don't want anything to do with this Gadrael guy or your weird, fucked up fae politics.” Samael was baring his teeth, had been since Corey had first spoken. The hatred in his eyes spoke volumes of his opinion for the man as he turned the full force of his glare in that direction.
“Didn't I already fucking tell you,” Samael began, his words dripping with malice. “That Gadrael is the necromancer in charge of your Coalition. Didn't I?” Corey's face went red with anger as he exchanged a sideways glance with Amadan. “Don't you dare fucking look at him,” Samael hissed, fists clenched tightly at his sides. I curled my arms around my legs and watched what I knew was going to be a horrible fight unfold. “He is in enough trouble as it is.” Amadan looked down, ashamed. As shocking as that was, I understood. I felt the same way. I didn't want to, didn't think Samael had a right to make us feel that way, but I did. “Do you know why?” Samael said suddenly, turning back to me. The look he gave me was one of desperation and anger. And it scared me. Really scared me.
“What are you doing?” I whispered. He ignored me.
“Because,” Samael continued, turning his back on me. “Amadan and Georgette decided it was in their best interests to fuck each other in a parking lot.” His words were cruel but true. I ignored Corey's widened eyes and tucked my head into my arms, so I wouldn't have to see. I wanted the love in Samael's eyes back. The joy in his voice when he saw me for the first time. I didn't know why, but I did. I really did.
“I was willing to forgive them for fucking at The House of Hands and Hearts and Hair. Georgette didn't know and Amadan was overwhelmed with his emotions. That, I could forgive. But this?” I couldn't see what he was doing, but I heard footsteps coming towards me. “Sweetness, I think I need to be alone. I'll give you twenty-four hours to decide to come with us, and if you don't, then I'll be forced to make you.” He stopped next to me and knelt down, his lips pressing against the crown of my head as he softened his voice. “I will never tell you what to do, except in this one thing. I will love you until my heart turns to stone and breaks and for an eternity beyond that. Remember me sweetness. Please, please, remember me.” And then he was up and his footsteps were fading down the hallway.
I raised my tear streaked face to watch him go, Amadan falling silently into line behind him while Corey stood, pale faced, cheeks red and glared daggers at me.
“Georgette,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “We need to talk.”
“I slept with Aife,” Corey said, leaning against the wall across from me while I sat quietly, hands tucked under my thighs, on the edge of our bed. I shrugged. He had told me that before. I had known that. “No,” Corey said, sensing my thoughts. “I mean recently. After we fought and I left you alone in that room.” He scowled. “Or I guess you weren't alone after all.”
“You're going to yell at me?” I whispered back, voice rough and hoarse. Blurry figures were dancing and teasing around me again, and I knew if I looked, I'd be swept away into another memory. “After you did the very same thing?”
“I'm not yelling,” Corey responded, trying to cool the anger in his voice. “I just think we need to clear the air. Is there anything else you want to tell me about?”
“You mean like Rachel?” I said, trying not to laugh. “I didn't fuck her that day, Corey. We were just hugging, as friends. That's what friends do.” He shook his head, exasperated with what he perceived to be a lie.
“I fucked Lynna,” Corey continued. “And Mai.” My head jerked up and I stared at him, unbelieving. “Twice each since we've been together.”
“Are you fucking serious?” I croaked out. “I thought you loved me? I thought you wanted to marry me?” Corey knelt down quickly next to me, trying to pry one of my hands out from under my legs. I refused to budge.
“I do, Georgette. I still do. Let's start fresh,” he said, eyes bright and eager like a little kid begging for a pack of bubble gum. “Let's get married and stop all this sleeping around. We'll find a way to fix your body and we'll have a family. We'll get rid of the Coalition ourselves. We don't need the fae to help us. They've caused enough trouble. I've got friends that owe me favors. We'll figure something out. I swear it.”
“If I break up with you,” I began, avoiding his eyes. “Will you release me?” I was referring, of course, to the magic he had over me. If Corey chose to release me as one of his minions, one of two things would happen. If another necromancer in the area sensed the separation of magic between us, he might snatch me up for himself and summon me to his side. If not, then my body would fall apart, the magic needed to animate it dissipating like a cloud of steam and my soul would be released. Whether it would search for another host or get sucked into the Other Place, I had no id
ea. But I didn't want to find out.
Corey sighed and stood up, running his hands along the front of his slacks.
“I don't know,” he said slowly. “I don't know what I would do.”
“I'm breaking up with you,” I said, trying to push back tears. This was it. I had to do it. I had to because despite my words in the hallway, I was going to go with Samael and Amadan. I knew it. I'd known it since the very first second I'd seen Samael in our darkened house. As more and more memories joined the parade around my subconscious, fighting to be seen, there was no doubt about what I had to do. “I hope you won't release me because I could use your help. With the Coalition, with getting a body, with everything. I hope you care enough about me to let me stay here. Please, Corey.”
He had turned away from me, one hand massaging his temple, the other bracing his body against the wall. As I waited in anticipation for his answer, the phone in his back pocket rang. He pulled it out and glanced at it quickly before tossing it to me. It was my phone and my mother on the caller ID.
“Please fucking answer it,” he whispered, eyes clenched shut. “You have no idea the shit I've had to go through to keep her away while you slept.”
“Thank you, Corey,” I sobbed, trying to control the fresh flow of tears down my face. “Thank you for everything. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Don't mention it,” he snapped, turning towards the door and marching from the room with a swirl of magic about him. “And Georgette,” I glanced up at him, one finger poised, ready to answer the call. “Be careful, okay?” And then he was out the door, slamming it behind him with enough force that it rocked the pictures on the wall.
I answered the phone and held it up to my ear with a shaky hello.
“Georgette?” It was my mother, her voice harried but excited. “Come to the hospital, now. Your sister's in labor.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ICTHARA OAK
“The Icthara Oak is more than just a tree: it is something from a nightmare. Imagine a plant with a soul and a hunger for flesh that rivals even that of a ghoul. This deadly oak can be identified by its smooth, white bark, black leaves, and flowing limbs. The Icthara can be found in most regions of fairy esp. close to waterlogged areas such as The Skull Gardens, or Teopera as it is known in the Other Place, and is a common cause of fatality amongst the nearly immortal fae. Once inside the stomach, the soul is digested and scattered amongst the world as faerie lights or charlim.”
I gazed through sterile glass at the row of red faced infants, attempting to pick out my new niece among the chubby faced babies, but it was to no avail. They all looked the same to me. I covered my mouth and tried not to choke on the scents of bleach and iodine that were wafting through the halls and clinging to the fabric of the nurses and doctors that rushed by behind me.
I tried not to fidget as I narrowed my eyes and scanned for the nameplate that read 'Walker' all the while mentally thanking Corey for his last minute suggestion. If he hadn't given me another bottle of glamour and told me to take it, I might not have been able to be here, and despite the differences between Lou and me, I was grateful for it. I wanted to see my new niece. I was looking forward to seeing new life instead of death for a change. I brushed a strand of auburn behind my ear and smiled, happy that I looked like me again instead of some dark eyed fae that I vaguely recognized.
“Lovely girl, ain't she?” drawled a hard voice behind me as my eyes finally settled on my sister's new baby. A scowl teased the corners of my mouth as I fought to control my hatred for the father of said child.
“Joe,” I said, turning around with a forced smile. He returned my feigned joy with some of his own, the dislike between us sizzling in the cool air. “So nice to see you!” I gushed, trying not to choke on the false words. “I'm so sorry we haven't been able to get together before this.” And I'm sorry you're still here and not back in Arkansas. Sorry that you think my sister's such a delicate little flower that she couldn't fly back home and that you decided to stay here with her. Sorry for a lot of things that have to do with you being in close proximity to me.
“Well,” he spoke gruffly, accent thick as my grandmother's stew but a thousand times less pleasant. “I'm sorry we couldn't make it to that dinner, few weeks back, was it? But your sister and I had some community service work we wanted to help with.” He adjusted his belt buckle and stepped closer to the glass, smiling down at his daughter in a way that was both loving and demeaning. A look that many male chauvinists over the years have given their wives, mothers, sisters, and daughters. “Seems a right criminal saw fit to burn down one of God's houses.” He turned slightly towards me, his crooked nose and square jaw not unpleasant but filled with such hate that he had become ugly.
I took a step back, confused. We had always hated each other, Joseph Walker and I. We were cut from different cloth, and there was nothing, nothing in this world that would ever change that, but we had always pretended, always smiled, always hugged. Why was he changing his tune now? Why let our dislike for each other out into the open? He couldn't possibly have known that Corey and I had had anything to do with the fire.
“It seems,” he said quietly, shaggy eyebrows drawing together as he gave me a spiteful once over. “That your boyfriend had something to do with it and you,” he practically spat the last word at me. “You're an unholy demon, you devil spawn of hell.” I didn't wait for him to continue; I had a pretty good idea of what was going on. Georgette French might have been many things, but she wasn't stupid.
He called out at my back, all cheerful and down home southern charm.
“Where ya off to, Ms. French? I don't think your sister's gonna wanna see you right now.” I paused at the corner of the hall, waiting for just a moment, debating if I should go to my sister's room or follow the glowing green sign to the exit. “She knows.” I choked back a sob of fear and turned towards the maternity ward where the only family I had left was waiting. I practically ran down the hall, my black heels loud and echoing as several nurses politely asked me to slow down. I ignored them all until I reached a series of plastic blue chairs, one of which was occupied by Mrs. French, all dolled up with two red dots of blush on her aging cheeks and a conservative peach-pink suit that did her delicate features a great injustice.
“Mom,” I whispered coming to a quick stop in front of her. She frowned at my disheveled appearance, wrinkled black slacks and a hastily tucked in white button up with a burgundy tie. I had tried to look conservative, but I'd been in such a rush to get to the hospital that I had neglected to notice that I was wearing a black lace push up bra that was completely visible beneath my shirt. I blushed and crossed my arms over my chest, anxious to hear news of my sister. Anxious to find out if she would see me or if she really did know.
“Georgette,” my mother admonished, folding her romance novel closed and leaning forward conspiratorially, blue eyes glancing back and forth down the hall as if I might embarrass her in front of someone important. “What are you wearing? This is a hospital,” she whispered angrily. She was speaking to me like a priest might speak to a hooker that had come to solicit clients in his church.
“Mom,” I said, trying to reign in my temper, trying to ignore her harsh tone. “Is Lou okay?” My mother frowned, silver brows drawing tightly together.
“She just had a baby, Georgette,” she replied cholerically as if that answered my question completely and wholly. I took a deep breath and planted my hands on my hips.
“Can I see her?” I asked quietly, wanting to rush past my mother and burst into the room. My mother made a clucking noise in the back of her throat before a beautiful smile blossomed on her face. She leaned past me and waved.
“Yoo-hoo, Joseph!” My mother called out. “Georgette's here,” she said happily as if she hadn't just been chastising me moments before. “Come and visit, Daddy!” My mother chuckled and leaned back, giving me a warning look as if I'd done something wrong.
I took a deep breath and tried to think. I
was going to be in Faerie soon, and I was being chased by a group of religious nuts and a soul eating madman. This could be my last chance to see my sister and I wasn't going to give it up. I listened to Joe's boots stride confidently and arrogantly towards me while my mother beamed away at his approach and made my decision.
I pushed the doors open and flung myself into the room, waking my sister and watching with horror as her eyes widened in fear and her lips opened and closed, soundless terror spilling from her pink mouth. I stood there feeling hurt and confused until I heard the doors open behind me. Lou finally found her voice and let out a scream as Joe wrapped his arms around me and lifted me from the floor.
Hot, wet shame and disbelief spilled down my face as I elbowed Joe in the jaw. I didn't hold back my undead strength, and I nearly cackled with misplaced glee as a horrifying crack sounded and his arms went limp around me. I didn't wait to see if he was okay as he slumped to the floor and my mother and several nurses crowded into the room, mouths open wide and accusatory fingers raised like shields against me. I pushed past them and raced down the hall, past mothers groaning in wheelchairs and doctors in traditional lab coats, past gurneys and brightly colored scrubs until I burst from the hospital doors and into the broken sunlight in a mess of tears, Joe's blood dripping hot and metallic from my elbow.
I paused at the curb, breath harsh and gasping.
Why does she have to know? Why is this my life? I tried to collapse, only to be stopped by a pair of warm hands, comforting hands, hands that lifted me and crushed me to a broad chest.
“How does she know that I'm a zombie?” I asked, the question sounding both unreasonable and unreal in the clear, silent air.
“Because, sweetness,” Samael whispered back, his glamour shimmering at the edges of my vision. “She's a member of the Coalition now.” I sobbed into the violet softness of his sweater and tried not to think about what I'd done to Joe. He could be dead. And if he was, then I would never see my mother or sister again unless it was behind bars or in court.
Gray and Graves: A Dark Fae Menage Urban Fantasy (The Three Courts of Faerie Book 1) Page 21